A Life as Bruce Wayne
by Dungeonwriter
Summary: A missing scene from pdantzler's "Life With Bruce Wayne"? What had happened when Bruce was found under the bleachers at 14? Warnings for corporal punishment as it is canon to her world and a slight amount of lewdness


A gift fic for Pdantzler who is an amazing writer and deserves all the praise she can get. Thank you so much for your wonderful work. This story takes place in her universe and was inspired by a remark in the sixth chapter of her story. So actually, a lot of this belongs to her as well as DC comics. Also, the opening paragraph is from the Scarlet Pimpernel by Baroness Emmuska Orzky, so more stuff that doesn't belong to me.

Warnings for corporal punishment and a slight amount of lewdness, though it's not shown.

Life as Bruce Wayne

_"The paper always contained a brief notice that the band of meddlesome Englishmen were at work, and it was always signed with a device drawn in red--a little star-shaped flower, which we in England call the Scarlet Pimpernel"_

The book was fantastic.

"Oh Bruce," whispered a soft feminine voice, poking the teenage millionaire out of his book. Bruce Wayne had buried himself in the story of the Scarlet Pimpernel, a wealthy fop by day but the rescuer of innocent women and children by night. It had been the last book his parents had given him and Bruce had worn out three copies, rereading it again and again when he missed them. "Why not take your head out of the book and look at me?"

Of course, Bruce had other hobbies now and one of them was the beautiful Joan Madison, the dark haired cheerleader who shared his English class at St. Thomas Aquinas. She was the daughter of actress Juliana Madison and she had inherited her mom's killer curves. "Well, there is something to look at," he said with a grin, shoving his book into his knapsack.

"You charmer," Joan said, planting herself down on the grass next to him, making sure to lean over so her ample cleavage was displayed. "You're the wealthiest guy in school, why do you keep bothering with those stupid books? You know you're never going to need school, why do you still work so hard in class?" she asked, curling a finger into her hair.

Bruce shrugged. He didn't want to explain to her that he didn't work; he was just naturally smart and was already doing college work at home. No one liked geeks much, especially girls. They wanted him to be the cool rich kid, champion judo master and rich guy who had his own chauffer and limo to take friends anywhere they wanted.

"Hey, the press would have a field day, if I didn't. Could you see the headlines? 'Money can't buy brains.' 'Boy who has everything has nothing between his ears.' Nah, I better just stick to the books," he said, giving her his most winning smile.

Joan giggled. She looked so beautiful, with those curvy lips and her smooth white skin. "Well, you are the heir to Wayne industries, you must have gotten used to life in the press," she teased. Growing up in Hollywood, Joan must have enjoyed a paparazzi filled existence herself. "It's fun dodging them, no?"

"Well, sometimes I wouldn't mind some more privacy," Bruce confessed. He remembered his parents' funeral, with news crews and cameras flashing and him trying to hold back his tears because he had not wanted the pictures to show him crying. He had been furious that they had invaded his personal space.

"Hmmm, I think I dropped my bracelet beneath the bleachers. Maybe you could help me look for it? It's nice and private down there," Joan said, with a wink. He knew exactly what she was hinting.

"Shouldn't we find somewhere more…private?" Bruce asked, trying to avoid blushing. He had to admit that he was very interested in what Joan was offering, but he really didn't think the bleachers were a smart enough hiding location, but he did want to feel up her magnificent figure.

"Oh come on, what's the worst that could happen?" Joan asked, taking his hand and pulling him alone. "I'll definitely make it worth your while."

* * *

Bruce stared down at his shoes as he listened to the principal's voice drone on about how St. Thomas Aquinas was a Christian school and expected a certain level of decorum. "Taking off Miss Madison's…undergarments is definitely not appropriate behavior," Dr. Card-Bennington said in a low angry voice.

"I'm sorry, sir. I fully understand that my actions were wrong," Bruce answered, still humiliated by having a half naked Joan and himself marched by the ear to the principals' office. He had just been trying to cop a feel of her breasts, he wasn't going to have sex with her!

Alfred, Bruce's butler guardian had been called and was sitting next to his young charge. He wasn't looking at him, which Bruce took as a very bad sign. Actually, considering Alfred's opinion of mischief, this evening was not going to go well. "And his punishment?" the butler asked, in a crisp calm English accent. Bruce knew the calmer he acted, the angrier he was.

"We had to expel Miss Madison, of course, for tempting our star student into such behavior," Dr. Card-Bennington continued, making Bruce wince further. What would be done to him? The press would have a field day and he would have shamed his family's name forever. "Naturally, you will receive a stern warning."

Bruce grinned happily at that, but wilted under Alfred's stern gaze. "So the young lady is expelled and Master Bruce is merely scolded?" the butler asked softly. This was turning into a very bad day. In fact, Bruce was starting to wish he had stayed home with a cold.

"Seems fair, doesn't it? We wouldn't want our finest alumnae to feel ashamed of one mistake in his youth," the headmaster said, giving Bruce a fatherly smile.

"So he receives a slap on the wrist while a girl is expelled, even though it was his fault?" Alfred asked, his tone finally showing the anger.

"It seems you want him to be punished…" Dr. Card-Bennington asked, sounding confused. Bruce was pretty bewildered himself, why was Alfred ruining the situation so much? "Bruce has such a shining future in front of him. Why sully it with a childish mistake?" he asked.

"He will be suspended three days, and I will see to it personally that when he returns, he will be a model student," Alfred said coldly, taking Bruce's shoulder in a vice like grip. "A model student at St. Xavier's. I will not have Master Bruce at a school with no discipline."

Bruce suddenly wondered why his stomach felt like he had eaten raw cookie dough or why he was seriously considering running away from home. Surely, Alfred wouldn't be that terrible to him.

The long ride home in the limousine had been disturbingly quiet. Alfred liked to prolong the punishment by allowing the young master of the house to wait in the painful silence until the ax fell. Bruce debated speaking but wasn't entirely sure what to say. Should he apologize and grovel when he hadn't done anything that bad? Or should he stand his ground and prove himself a man? Neither option seemed very attractive at the moment, but at least he had the scenery to look at. That was nicely distracting.

When they finally reached the cavernous mansion, Alfred motioned for Bruce to go his room and wait. He didn't even to talk to indicate how much trouble the young boy was in, it was practically emanating in the air. Bruce didn't even bother to argue; he silently slipped up the stars to his enormous bedroom and changed into his silk pajamas that had been laid out for him.

People always said Bruce was so lucky. He had more money than anyone he knew. He had a servant to take care of him. His room was the side of some people's apartments. Everything in his room was over a hundred years old and worth millions. Downstairs was an army of bikes, scooters, three horses and two boats. He had everything and right now, Bruce would trade it in a heart beat to get out of trouble.

Waiting for Alfred was excruciating. It wasn't just that Bruce was going to be spanked, (and he knew he would be) but waiting for it to happen was just as bad. It seemed to take forever, with half of him hoping Alfred never came and half of him just wanting to get it over with.

To calm himself, he began to recite the periodic table of elements in his head. Science was something rational and intelligent and logical. Girls confused him and made him do stupid things. Science solved problems. Women were problems and no amount of science could solve them.

It had only been twenty minutes since Bruce had thrown himself on his bed and waited for his doom for his end to come, but it seemed like forever. Bruce was starting to believe that Alfred just enjoyed knowing Bruce was squirming with worry and too nervous to do anything else. It was so sadistic! Finally, relief came with a knock on the door that ended and began his misery. "Master Bruce?" came that crisp English accent.

Bruce was too well schooled to ignore it. "Come in, please." He hated when his voice squeaked in terror.

"Well…what do you have to say for yourself?" Alfred asked as he strode inside. Bruce was wondering when he would be getting that growth spurt that he would be able to look Alfred in the eye. Currently, being short stunk!

"What do you want me to say?" Bruce asked, pouting. He wouldn't let anyone see that he was frightened. He hadn't hurt anyone, it had just been some innocent fun.

"Master Bruce, your behavior…it is beyond the pale. Taking advantage of a young girl is not acceptable, especially to a young gentleman of your high station," Alfred scolded, with Bruce trying not to wither under the glare. "What were you thinking?"

"I was trying to have some fun. You don't get it; every girl wants me, what am I supposed to do, ignore them?" Bruce demanded, staring at his shoes. He was going to be punished, he already knew that. To hide the impending guilt, Bruce decided to shock his butler/guardian a bit. "It was just playing around, Alfred. I promise, I just…want to feel her up, nothing more."

The look of fury on his favorite person's face made Bruce wish that he had been muzzled. "That is the last straw, young man. Heaven help me, I've been a lenient man, but you have crossed the line. Get the cane from the stand in the front foyer and bring it back to me," Alfred snapped, towering over the younger boy's smaller frame.

The cane? Alfred had never been slow to administer a good hair brush cure to Bruce's backside whenever the butler felt that the "young master needed to brought up sharp" but he had never gotten the cane before. "You can't be serious." Bruce sure prayed he wasn't.

"Quite the contrary, I have never been more serious. You will go downstairs, fetch me the cane and then take your punishment quietly. Any further disobedience and this treatment will be repeated every night for a week," Alfred said in a low stormy tone. This wasn't a joke. This was hell.

"Please...I will never misbehave again. I'll obey you without question, I won't even look at a girl till I am eighteen," Bruce bargained, feeling himself break out in a cold sweat. He wondered if falling to his knees like Holy Roman Emperor Henry III would help.

"I am afraid you have gone too far to ask for mercy. Getting suspended from school, behaving as a common lout, and don't think I haven't noticed the sharp decline in your behavior and grades?" Alfred said, sitting himself down in a chair.

"The headmaster wasn't going to punish me until you made him!" Bruce sniffed, furious at the way this conversation was going.

"So you can't even admit what you did was wrong? What would your parents think of their precious child behaving so shamefully?" Alfred demanded.

At the mention of his parents, the blood drained from Bruce's face and he looked away. He didn't think he had hurt his late parents that badly, had he? Tears blinked away at his eyes. "I don't know, they're dead! Remember, I killed them!" he shouted, hating himself even more at that moment.

Alfred sighed, and rose from his seat. "You didn't kill them, my boy. You know you didn't, we've discussed this a thousand times. It was just a terrible accident. I apologize for bringing it up."

"If I hadn't have been such a brat…" Bruce whispered, never forgetting the events…white pearls…red blood, and a woman screaming his name. He had almost forgotten how his mother sounded when she spoke…but he always knew her screams.

"What happened wasn't your fault. Your parents died, loving you more than anything in the world and they honored me by allowing me to raise their precious child, and guide him the way they wished," he said softly. Had Bruce been younger, Alfred would have hugged him, but Bruce had become too old for such "babyish activities." "Understand?" he asked.

Bruce nodded, still blinking away tears. "Yes," he said, trying to calm himself down. "I…just need a few minutes, I'll be fine." He just wanted to go to his laboratory and be alone for a moment.

"Excellent. Take your time as you go down to get the cane. And hurry back. The sooner we can be over with this dreadful business, the better," Alfred said, just as calmly. If Bruce hadn't been trying to avoid a further blistering, he would have used some very choice words.

The young master of the manor found himself feeling quite foolish walking down the stairs to fetch the instrument of his own punishment. Technically, Alfred worked for him, Bruce was the heir to the fortune and Alfred was his butler. Of course, he had once pulled that idea when he had been eight. The next thing, he had been studying the floor boards and feeling a fire in his backside. "And when you are eighteen and become the master of the house, I will happily obey you. But till then, you'll learn to act properly so you can reach that point as the man you should be."

Bruce…loved Alfred. He was the only person who did care about him. Other relatives had asked to adopt him and Bruce knew they were only after his money, but Alfred had stayed, managed the business and the house and still had time to have warm milk by his bedside every night. Still, he wished Alfred had other ways of dealing with him without punishing him? He could try rewarding him more!

It wasn't hard to find the cane; it was always in the foyer. It had belonged to Bruce's grandfather, Alexander Wayne and had never been used until now. It felt awfully thin in his hands, but Bruce knew Alfred's punishments always left a serious sting in his backside.

He wondered if he could throw it away. Lie and say he never found it, throw it into the fireplace, anything but bring it back upstairs and have it used on him. He didn't have to take this, he could think his way out of this.

Or he could make it worse. Lying was one of Alfred's three cardinal sins along with disobedience and disrespect. It was a terrible choice. Get punished willingly or try and avoid it and get punished even more. He couldn't imagine what was worse than being hit with this, but he had a feeling Alfred could.

"Hold out your hands," Alfred directed, as he studied the cane with what Bruce feared was a practiced eye. "Three strokes administered on both hands."

"Please…don't do this," Bruce pleaded, knowing that he had no where to run and if he tried, he'd be so much worse for it.

"I have no choice, Master Bruce. As I said, I gave my word to your dear parents, God rest their souls that I would bring you up right. And if that means caning wisdom into you, then so be it," Alfred said, waiting for the hand to be held out. "And if I have to wait any longer, I do pity you, young master." Bruce believed him, he had tried to hide from a spanking once and Alfred had blistered his behind with a hair brush for three nights straight. He knew his trusted guardian would never actually hurt him, but "discipline may be painful, but its salutary affect is never to be underestimated," he mentally quoted.

Closing his eyes, he held his shaking hands. Alfred pinned both to the table, palms side up. "If you cared about me, you wouldn't do this," Bruce whispered, feeling betrayed. A sharp swish sliced through the hair, followed by a sickening crack as fire exploded across his hands. A high pitched squeal escaped his clenched teeth.

"Those hands will learn to keep to themselves," Alfred noted dryly, as he laid down the second stroke, stinging like hot wire across Bruce's delicate palms. Another groan escaped Bruce's trembling lips. He hated Alfred, he hated everyone in the world and he especially hated Joan Madison! He wanted to open his eyes, but he was terrified he would have no skin left there!

"Or they will truly regret it." The final stroke crossed over the two previous welts, as Bruce let out a shameful sob. He was fourteen and too old to bawl. Tears ran down his cheeks, as he yearned to blow on his smoking hands.

"All right, that part is over," Alfred said calmly, reassuring Bruce that the worst was over. He'd serve his suspension quietly, and just hope he didn't have to hold a pen or anything else. "Now, bend over the armchair to finish up."

The young student's stomach dropped as he imagined that cane biting into his poor seat, so thinly protected by thin silk sleepwear. "You don't mean…but you already caned me," he protested, feeling nauseous.

"You will be toppedand tailed, young master. It's what my father would have done to any young lad who shamefully treated a lady, and you will have the full dose. Now, position yourself properly," Alfred said, not raising his voice, but flexing the cane a bit. "I hope for your sake you won't make me ask a third time."

Bruce gave his butler a look of profound loathing before doing as he was told and leaning over the chair. His butt was completely pointed out, just waiting to be punished. This was so demeaning!

Alfred lightly touched him with the cane to measure the distance and Bruce couldn't hold in a terrified gasp. This was going to hurt more than anything, he knew it. He tried to imagine other things to take his mind about what would be happening to his backside. He could go yachting with Ollie Queen, go mountain climbing…

A sharp crack echoed through the room and a line of fire ripped across Bruce's backside. He clenched his teeth and began reciting the bones of the body, trying to push his mind away from the burning pain. The young master had been schooled in martial arts since he was five and had been well conditioned to pain, but his butler had always been able to break through that stoic exterior and make him want to beg for mercy. As that thought slithered through Bruce's brain, a second crack chased all thoughts but pain from his mind. A groan escaped his lips. "Please…no more," he begged.

"You have three more strokes to go," Alfred said calmly as the next stroke descended like a bolt of lightning. Bruce arched his back and bit his lip, tears running down his cheeks. "And I suggest you take them quietly. You earned them after all." The fourth one seemed to crisscross the other welts, and Bruce couldn't hide a fresh squeal of pain. Only two more to go and he would be free. That was, if he survived the ordeal of a searing strip of glowing hot metal disguised as a cane pressing against his bottom.

Alfred had not said another word, but Bruce had a few choice ones for him. The fifth crack was enough to have him begin to cry copiously. He knew it was only one more, but his knees were beginning to give out. He hated the entire world and he wished he was dead!

For a moment, it seemed that there was an endless pause. Bruce wondered, hope against hope that he had miscounted and that his ordeal was over. Perhaps he had finished and now he could just go to the bathroom to cry out his wounds. He never wanted to lay eyes on girls ever again. Sadly, he was mistaken.

The final stroke landed with deadly accuracy and Bruce howled with pain and tears. "You may rise and compose yourself," Alfred said softly.

Bruce sobbed, choking on each heaving breath. As he looked up with moistened eyes, a single word came to his lips. "Why?" How could the person who was supposed to love him and take care of him beat him so?

"Because…dear boy, you are not an ordinary child. You were born to wealth and privilege beyond the dreams of others. In four years, you will come into a fortune of money and have power. People will break rules for you, women will behave shamelessly for your attention and you will be inundated with false flattery." Alfred handed Bruce a tissue and Bruce accepted it gratefully, trying to mop up his tears.

"Why's that a problem? I'm smart, I can handle it," Bruce whimpered, still feeling the glow in his swollen, welted seat.

"I will not have you entering in as a spoiled selfish rogue who cares nothing for others. I will not have you see women as possessions. I will not have you grow to become a destructive waste of all the good inside you, I will do whatever it takes to prevent that," Alfred said, giving Bruce a sharp look that boded poorly for his backside.

"Even caning me?" Bruce wailed, finding this all unfair. He hadn't asked to be born the wealthiest child in three states! He had just wanted to be a normal kid, and no one seemed

"Yes. You are spoiled in school, you are spoiled on trips but in this house, when you behave like a naughty child, you'll get proper treatment. Did you even think of what your conduct did to that poor girl?" Alfred demanded. "Treating her like a possession. Taking away her dignity by disrobing her? Allowing her to accept punishment for you. Did you think that was fair?" he demanded.

"I guess it wasn't," Bruce admitted. He was mad at Joan Madison, but he supposed he had a share in what had happened too. He shouldn't have allowed her to let him take it too far.

"Fire me the moment you become of age, but I'll know I gave you limits and consequences. That is what care means, it means caring about someone enough to do what is needed, even when it hurts both of us." Alfred put a hand on both of Bruce's shoulders. "And I care deeply about you."

Bruce accepted the affection, trying to still hold back tears. "I care about you too," he said softly. "I'm glad you're my guardian."

""I am too. So now, do you have anything to say for yourself?" Alfred asked affectionately, giving Bruce a warm look.

"I'm sorry I behaved disrespectfully," Bruce recited and received a beam of approval.

Alfred smiled as he patted Bruce's head. "You are forgiven. I'll come up with dinner in a few moments," he said briskly.

"Can I eat later?" Bruce asked. "I'd love to take the time to go out on the lake, it's still daylight. I might cool off a little bit." Actually, cool his hide off a lot!

"You're grounded for a month. But if you wish to eat later, I am always happy to accommodate you," Alfred said, as Bruce tried to hide his pout till his butler left the room. The sting in his bottom had convinced him that maybe this time, he should just accept it. Besides…it was nice to know he was loved and that Alfred had his best interests at heart. He did really love his guardian very much.

But the moment that Bruce was eighteen, he was burning every cane in the house.


End file.
